Locked Away
by acorngirl
Summary: COMPLETE IN 4 CHAPTERS. My post "Gift" story, involving Angel and company. Fred is hiding something in her bathroom and when Angel investigates he has to call Willow for help. A new and unique way of bringing Buffy back.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: All these characters belong to Joss Whedon and 20th Century Fox. I claim no ownership and do not profit from this stroll through someone else's world. Thank you.  
  
Author's note: This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Be kind but honest.  
  
"Locked Away"  
  
When he came to the hotel that evening he discovered Cordy and Wesley bent   
over opposite sides of the reception desk. They weren't busy at work. Even without the proverbial water cooler, Angel could tell that they were gossiping.  
  
The most tell-tale sign of this was their reaction to his entrance. Their heads sprang up and away from each other so forcibly to the sound of his footsteps, he would have thought they had heard an explosion.   
  
"Hi Angel!" Cordy beamed more loudly than necessary.  
  
"What's going on?" he asked softly obviously indicating their curious behavior. He had hoped that by now they would be less obsessed with his mourning.  
  
Wesley turned away and tried to appear productive by picking up some of   
Cordy's invoices. "Nothing unusual," he muttered.  
  
Whether she had crumpled under his scrutiny or she just couldn't stand the idea of not talking about it anymore, Angel didn't know. "It's Fred," Cordy suddenly blurted out.  
  
"Is there something wrong with her?" he asked with sudden concern.  
  
Cordy couldn't fight back the sarcasm. "You mean besides the fact that she hasn't left her room in three months and her diet subsists solely of tacos?"  
  
Angel replied with an appropriate stare causing the corner of her mouth to spasm upwards in a smirk.  
  
Wesley abandoned the pretense of the invoices and rejoined them. "She seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time in her bathroom," he said with a sigh to indicate that he thought they were probably making a big deal out of nothing.  
  
Angel shrugged. He felt relief to know that for once the whispering wasn't about him. "That's it?" he asked. "She was running out of wall space. Maybe she's started writing in there."  
  
Wesley shook his head. "She can't."  
  
"Remember about how she was griping about the ceramic tiles?" Cordy   
elaborated. "They don't hold the ink."  
  
"Yeah," Angel nodded, remembering vaguely an earlier discussion concerning   
Fred's dislike of the tiles. "That's why I got her the notebooks. I was hoping she'd start writing in those."  
  
"And she has," Wesley added.  
  
"Only now she tapes the pages up on the walls when she's done," Cordy   
continued. "I guess it's still an improvement."  
  
"Lately though whenever any of us have gone up to her room she always seems to be busy in her bathroom," Wesley explained.  
  
Cordy's brow furrowed and her lips curved into a frown. " You'd think with all the time she spends in there she'd come out looking cleaner."  
  
Angel shot her another look which she didn't catch. "Alright," he sighed. "I'll go up there and see what 's going on."  
  
"That's just what we were discussing," Wesley began but Angel had already   
bounded up the stairs. Anymore talk of Fred's bathroom habits and he was going to feel too much like one of the girls.  
  
He made his way to Fred's room. He had tried to coax her out of it many times only to have her laugh nervously and promise that next time she really would come out. Letting the others in was definitely an improvement.  
  
As he came nearer, the familiar aroma of taco sauce met his nose. Yet another of the many things he needed to work on with her.  
  
Much to his surprise, Fred's door was open. Angel poked his head in. She was nowhere to be seen. The door to her bathroom was closed.  
  
"Fred?" he called out to her.  
  
"Angel?" came her muffled reply from behind the bathroom door.  
  
He came in, stepping over discarded taco boxes. "What's going on in there? You've been in there a long time."  
  
Before he could reach her bathroom Fred popped out and placed herself between him and the door. "Why? What have you heard?" she asked breathlessly with a smile that told him what the rest of her body language said: She was hiding something.  
  
"Only that you've been spending a lot of time in there," he said with a concern that caused her face to melt with guilt. "What are you doing in there?"  
  
For a moment an emotional battle began to take place inside Fred. She had a great desire to say that she wasn't doing anything but that feeling was losing the fight. Her gratitude towards him as her rescuer (among many other unforeseen feelings she had for him) made the prospect of lying to him actually painful. Finally honesty won out. She bit her bottom lip and looked up at him with eyes that threatened to fill with tears. "Promise you won't get mad?" she asked in a tiny voice.   
  
"Promise," he replied automatically.  
  
The worst thing he could imagine involved her dismantling the bathroom tile by accursed tile. She had already established her dislike for them and he supposed that they held tape about as well as they held ink. They had no use for her besides looking pretty and Fred probably cared little for aesthetics.  
  
"Okay," she answered, pushing her glasses back up on her nose. She looked back down as she took a side step away from the door. Her glasses slid down again. "I guess I can show you."  
  
As Angel stepped towards it, she flung herself in front of it again. "There's something I should tell you first," she said hastily.  
  
"What is it?" he asked summoning a store of patience he had reserved only for her.  
  
Fred became unusually serious. She looked down at a spot on her floor only she could see. "Before I ended up in Pylea, I was really smart."  
  
"You still are," Angel interrupted.  
  
She glanced up at him briefly with a nervous smile. "Thanks," she said sweetly, "but in Pylea so much of it got...."  
  
"Lost?" he offered.  
  
"Locked away," she decided.  
  
These words satisfied her. They described her situation so perfectly that she fell silent for a moment. Both of them were quiet.  
  
Finally she looked up at him again with seriousness, with honesty and with a plea. "I want it back," she whispered. "I made something that I thought would help me."  
  
This time she didn't step aside. She opened the door herself.  
  
As Angel entered the bathroom he found that the ceramic tiles were surprisingly untouched. The room seemed to be lit with a warm pinkish glow that came from the bathtub. He assumed that she had lit candles but as he looked closer he saw there were no candles.  
  
No candles.  
  
The light came from the water within the tub itself.  
  
"What have you done?" he heard himself ask.  
  
Fred crouched down on the floor next to the tub. "I made a perflecting pool," she said softly. She blew softly across the top of the water. It shimmered at the touch of her breath and images began forming just beneath its surface.   
  
Angel stepped forward to see the images but they moved quickly. Just as he would begin to make out Pylea, the water would ripple and the scene would be replaced by something else and then less than a moment later something different.  
  
Fred looked up at him with worry. "You promised you wouldn't get mad."  
  
"I'm not mad. I just don't know--" he began. He lost track of his thoughts. The shifting images of Fred's pool mesmerized him. "How did you do this?"  
  
She stuck out her arm and pointed at the sink. The tiles may not have held ink but she had found a way to write on the mirrors. The words she had written looked familiar. Like the ones they had used to open the portal home from Pylea, these words had no vowels. Angel knew immediately they had the same source.  
  
Fred guessed what he was thinking. "I had heard of perflecting pools in Pylea. I knew what they could do, so when we had the books I saw how to make them."  
  
Angel understood at once what she meant by 'locked away'. "You memorized this?" he marveled.  
  
She nodded without her usual smile. "They work very much like the portals, except they're not a door...or a window," she added with a nervous tremor to her voice. "They're more like a television, a transmission from another place, maybe even another time. Showing us things we can't see. Like the insides of people's heads. At first I thought I could use it to sort things out. You know," she smacked her hand lightly on her forehead, "up here."  
  
She pulled herself up to sit on the tub's edge. She raked her fingers gently across the surface of the water. The images flickered away and the water became still once more. "Then I realized that it could help more than just me."  
  
Angel moved closer to her. The water spooked him but the idea that Fred made this by herself spooked him more. He had thought of her as fragile, a harmless victim of a cruel world but now he saw a Fred that no one saw before. A Fred that could wield unimaginable power.   
  
What else was locked away inside her?   
  
"Who were you thinking of?" he asked.   
  
"At first I thought of your friend Cordelia. You're always worried about her visions and what happens to her. I thought maybe I could transfer them to the pool." She suddenly fell silent again.  
  
"I'm sensing a 'but' here," he said quietly, prompting her.  
  
"I forgot that these things often have a mind of their own," she told him.  
  
"What are you saying?" he asked, hoping he wouldn't regret the answer.  
  
Fred looked up at him finally and this time she did have tears in her eyes. "It's you, Angel," she said softly, taking hold of his hand. "It wants to help you." She pulled his hand gently to bring him closer to the pool. "Just blow on the water. It'll show you."  
  
Angel looked to her for guidance. She seemed inexplicably sad which made him hesitate but somewhere behind that was hope. She said that it would help him. Fred trusted it and he trusted her.  
  
Still holding her hand, he blew on the water.  
  
As with her breath, its surface reacted instantly to his subtle touch. It shimmered with distorted reflections like a mirror being carried through a house. Unlike Fred's images, the water began to settle on one significant picture of a place.  
  
Before him materialized a place of shadows and darkness with a singular source of white light coming from above to rain down on a mass of people. The people wandered without purpose, without direction. Some bumped into each other without notice or acknowledgement. Angel thought they looked like sleepwalkers. Their minds somewhere else while their bodies walked alone.   
  
No, that wasn't quite right. In fact, the opposite was true.  
  
Fred had slipped away from him, stepping back to leave him alone with his visions.  
  
Angel's mouth opened to ask her about what he was seeing but the words never found their way out. He spotted someone in the mass of people, a hint of something deeply familiar locked his eyes and his thoughts on the solitary figure.  
  
"Buffy," he whispered.  
  
Standing against the wall with her arms wrapped tightly around herself for comfort, Fred nodded unseen.  
  
She didn't want to hide the pool from them. She hid this. This sighting. This revelation. Pools were tricky emotional creatures. When she first saw this, it took her three days just to make sure that the intentions were honorable. She used another seven simply trying to figure out what it meant. She had wanted more time before she told anyone. She didn't yet know why or how but with trembling words she said what she did know.  
  
"I know where she is, Angel," she told him. "If you give me some time. I think I can bring her back."   
  
End of chapter one.  
  
Chapter two will bring a small contingency from Sunnydale and some revelations that Angel won't want to hear.   



	2. Locked Away, Chapter 2

Disclaimer the same as with chapter one, all I own is what is mine and none of the   
following is mine.  
  
Locked Away  
  
Chapter Two.  
  
Fred opened the door of her room and peeked out shyly from behind its protective   
barrier. "I guess you've come to see my pool," she said sheepishly to Angel and his two   
friends from Sunnydale.  
  
One of them, the girl with short red hair, she had met before, if only briefly. The   
other, the tall professor looking man, she had not and his presence unnerved her. She   
couldn't help but feel that he was judging her. The disarray of her room, the notes taped   
to the walls which she failed to organize to her satisfaction, the greasy film blurring the   
lenses of her glasses, all of this she had to open to the scrutiny of this forbidding-looking   
man. She could see the instant disdain on his face and if Angel had not been there to   
reassure her she would have shut the door more quickly than she opened it.  
  
"Fred," Angel said warmly sensing her unease. "You remember Willow."  
  
"Hi," Fred said quickly. She fought the urge to retreat farther behind her door.   
"I'm sorry it's such a mess."  
  
"That's okay," Willow said cheerfully. "I've made many messes myself."  
  
Willow possessed such a gentleness in her voice and such caring in her smile,   
Fred felt great reassurance. She stepped back, opening the door to her room much wider.   
She would allow them to come in.   
  
All of them.  
  
No matter how bad the mean professor guy was, he kept excellent company.  
  
As they came through the door, Angel introduced the stranger. "This is Rupert   
Giles," he told her. He hadn't expected him to come and like his fractured friend he   
didn't really want him to come.  
  
"Yes, um, thank you, um," Giles murmured only partially paying attention to his   
hosts. As Fred had expected, he surveyed her living quarters like a social worker taking   
stock of Angel's parenting skills.  
  
She tried to ignore his misdirected attention and want to the bathroom door.   
"Everyone here just calls me 'Fred'," she told him nervously. She turned only to find her   
words and actions were being ignored. Instead of coming to see the pool like they were   
supposed to, Willow and Giles had focused their attention to the notes scrawled on the   
walls. She looked to Angel helplessly, feeling that she had lost control of the situation.  
  
Meanwhile, Giles had adopted the composure of someone utterly appalled by his   
surroundings. He leaned towards Angel and spoke in a hushed tone. "Angel, this young   
woman needs serious medical attention. You cannot be keeping her like a pet. You are   
doing her a great disservice--"  
  
"I told them no doctors!" Fred said suddenly. Evidently Giles had not spoken   
quietly enough. She trembled with anger at this presumptious man but her anger was   
cloaked in her intensified self-consciousness.  
  
"There is nothing wrong with me," she declared in a tremoring voice as she   
focused on a stray take out box residing on her floor. "Considering my experiences in the   
past few years, I think my eccentricities are minor. Angel has done nothing but show me   
kindness and patience." Her hands had balled into tight fists at her sides as she   
summoned the strength to look Giles in the eye. "I might become what you consider   
normal someday, but it will be on my terms, not when someone like you prescribes me   
to.  
  
"Now, Mr. Giles, I'll remind you that you are in my home," she continued,   
gaining strength from the prideful smile on Angel's face. "Please direct any questions or   
comments about it to me."  
  
If Giles had been at all affected by her words, he did not let it alter his composure.   
He merely blinked and said, "I was terribly rude and I apologize. I did not intend to   
offend you. I forgot my place as a guest in your home." He bowed her head slightly   
toward her in a show of respect. "I assure you, it won't happen again."  
  
"Apology accepted, Mr. Giles," Fred said quietly. Finally her hands relaxed and   
she reached for the bathroom door again.  
  
"What does this mean?" Willow's question came suddenly. "The demon who   
first mourned..." Fred had lost track of her while she dealt with Giles. When she saw   
where she stood, her eyes grew wide. Willow glanced up from the papers on the wall to   
see if her question would be answered only to see Fred shaking her head at her.  
  
She understood instantly. Don't ask. Not now. Not yet.  
  
Angel and Giles had already made their way to the perflecting pool. They did not   
see this exchange.  
  
Minutes later the four of them together faced the vision that had sent Angel to call Willow days before. However much he trusted Fred's abilities to decifer the pool's images, he himself knew he needed outside help. He didn't want to be selfish. Buffy was important to many people. He also knew he had to be careful and he trusted Willow for her discretion.  
  
Perhaps Willow thought this was too big for her too. He had only implied that she needed to keep it quiet. He didn't specify whom she shouldn't tell. Maybe she thought they would need Giles.  
  
Maybe she was right.  
  
As they watched the image of Buffy wandering amidst the multitude of people in darkness, Giles broke the silence first. "Where is she?" he asked in a whisper.  
  
"As far as I can tell," Fred answered in kind, "this is her afterlife."  
  
Willow's expression drew downward into one of sorrow. "How sad," she remarked.  
  
"It's really not," Fred said brightly. "What she sees is very different from what we see. Where she is it's very quiet and restful. She is probably very much at peace."  
  
Giles took off his glasses and looked down at them as he proceeded to clean them. They didn't really need it but it gave him the excuse to look away. "I believe it is what she wanted," he said softly. "We should leave her there."  
  
At first no one objected. His observation seemed very true. Why should they bring her back if she didn't want to come back?  
  
This time Fred broke the silence. "The pool is very persistent in showing this image," she said matter-of-factly. "It doesn't just want to show us she's okay. It wants us to do something."  
  
"Are you saying this pool is sentient?" Giles asked incredulously.  
  
"It has to be," Fred insisted, "otherwise it wouldn't work right. It has to have independent thought in order to be helpful. If it didn't, we would just see what we wanted to see. This one has a great desire to heal."   
  
"Can they ever have bad intentions?" Angel asked.  
  
"Of yes, there are many stories in Pylea of people meeting horrible deaths because of evil perflecting pools," Fred replied happily but quickly added, "but I've done some tests and this one is a good one."  
  
"What would you have done if it was bad?" Willow asked curiously. "Pull the plug?"  
  
Fred nodded enthusiastically not seeing the joke.  
  
As fascinated as Giles could be with the inner workings of perflecting pools he knew they had drifted too far from the purpose of their coming. This wasn't about how Fred tested it to find out if it was good or evil, nor was it about the origin of its sentience. This was about Buffy. If she was supposed to come back, they needed to work on how. "What does it want us to do?" he asked.  
  
Suddenly Fred's tone became somber. "When Angel first found it, I had thought that I could lead her back." She approached the pool and looked down at the image of Buffy. "But now I know I can't. The pool keeps telling me that someone has to go in and lead her out."  
  
Fred then began to explain the complex imagery the pool had projected to communicate with her and how she had deciphered its messages. She didn't explain why this had such a serious effect on her mood, but Willow could tell that she was deliberately leaving out certain details. Things she wasn't ready to explain. With one glance at Angel she knew why.   
  
If the room were larger he would have begun pacing instead he looked like he was ready to pounce. He was like a soldier anxiously awaiting the order to go in. "So how do you get me in there?" he asked Fred.  
  
She became the portrait of uneasiness. "Uh, well," she stammered as her hands began to wring each other mercilessly.   
  
"You're not the one to go," Willow announced, looking to Fred. "Is he?"  
  
She shook her head, looking away from all of them.  
  
"Why not me?" he asked with an edge to his voice. "Fred, you told me that the pool wanted to help me. I thought that meant that I could--"  
  
"You can't OKAY?!" Fred suddenly snapped in her nervous high-pitched voice. She felt torn apart that in some way she had let him down. She went to him as if facing him would somehow make them both feel better. "I've heard them talking, you know? Cordelia and Wesley. I heard them say how you thought you let her down by not being there. I believed it too, when I first saw the pool that this would be your chance to fix things, to somehow make it up to her. But it's not for you. I don't know why it's not but it's become very clear, you can't go in there."  
  
Angel clenched his teeth together to hold back his emotion. "Why not?" he pleaded softly.  
  
Fred took his hands in sympathy. She stepped closely to him until their foreheads touched. She spoke soothingly. "It's a place for souls to go to rest."  
  
"If you go in, you won't come back out," Giles finished for her. "For once, your uniqueness as a vampire with a soul exempts you from this quest."  
  
Willow came alongside Fred and rested a reassuring hand on Angel's shoulder. "It's not all hopeless, Angel," she said. "You aren't the only one who feels like they let Buffy down. I understand something that Fred may not have figured out."  
  
Fred looked up at her with surprise. "Which thing? I have about seven right now."  
  
"The thing on the wall out there, about the demon who first mourned," Willow responded.  
  
"What demon?" Angel asked, He looked at both the women trying to catch up.  
  
Giles rubbed his eyes in futility. "Oh, dear Lord," he muttered to himself. He hadn't seen the notes on the wall but he understood the meaning immediately. "It's a shame you've been so much out of the loop. This revelation's not going to go down easily."   
  
"Oh good," Fred said, ignoring Giles. Relief flushed out the sadness she had felt moments before. "Now if you guys only understood what the pool means about a key."  
  
To be continued...  
  
Next: The 'demon who first mourned' and 'the key' come to the pool.   



	3. Locked Away, Chapter 3

Sorry this took me so long. I've been a bit under the weather.:( Also, I don't have UPN   
so I haven't yet seen the Buffy premiere, so I hope that the characterization is still right.  
  
Disclaimer's still the same as chapters 1 and 2.  
  
Locked Away, Chapter Three  
  
Spike heaved another shovel full of dirt over his left shoulder to the ground behind him.   
He had wanted to ask Willow exactly why she needed him to do this but he hadn't yet   
figured out the right words to say that wouldn't give away how he truly felt about this   
situation. He didn't want to admit to himself how he felt.  
  
This was Buffy's grave. Willow had asked, no, told him to dig her up. She didn't offer   
to pay him. She didn't tell him why or spell out any plan. She just said "C'mon, we're   
going to get Buffy," and thrust a shovel into his hands. He felt like anyone would feel in   
this situation.  
  
He was scared.   
  
Tara was there too. She said even less about what they were doing. She just pulled her   
shawl around her to keep out the chill of the evening and looked in every direction except   
the one pointing down into the grave where Spike moved the dirt out.  
  
Finally he set his jaw and thought of the right approach. "Why didn't you ask Harris to   
do this?" he asked casually.  
  
Willow looked at him with serious eyes. "I didn't want to involve anyone who didn't   
have to be."  
  
Spike stopped digging and threw the shovel down. "Then why the bloody hell am I   
here?"  
  
With the same seriousness, "Because you have to be."  
  
"Look, I'm not an idiot," he said hotly. He choked down the embarrassment that only an   
idiot would have dug this much out of a grave before declaring he wasn't an idiot. At   
least he wasn't too far to stop digging and go home. "I know how these reanimation   
rituals go. This isn't right. The two of you should follow your own advice to Dawn and   
just let it go. I miss Buffy just as much as any of you but I don't want to have anything to   
do with this perversion."  
  
Tara looked to Willow. Apparently she felt the same as he did but she hadn't said   
anything. She still didn't. She trusted Willow and Willow always had a plan.  
  
Willow jumped down into the pit that Spike had already dug out. "I'm sorry," she began   
with the sheepishness that she had made famous and with the pleading eyes that Spike   
couldn't believe were focused on him. "I know I should explain but I was afraid that it   
would all sound so crazy that you would just laugh at me and tell me to bug off."  
  
Spike looked up at Tara. He tried not to laugh. "Can you believe her? She thought that   
she was just going to intimidate me into doing this."  
  
"Actually," Tara said softly, "I think she used influence on you."  
  
"What?!" He was actually offended. He had thought that he was helping her on his own   
because she needed him to. Now he didn't know who really let him down, Willow or   
himself.  
  
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry," Willow relented. "I felt guilty about it so I let it wear   
off."  
  
"So I'm in control of myself now. Is that what you're saying?" he asked suspiciously.  
  
Willow nodded. She felt badly, but she reassured herself by thinking that she didn't have   
any choice. He never would have done this on his own and she knew now that it was   
only a matter of seconds before he climbed out and told her to 'bug off'.   
  
Spike looked at Willow for a long moment and then he reached down and picked up the   
shovel. He started digging again.   
  
Willow couldn't believe it. "You're going to stay?" she asked, "Why?"   
  
"Because of her," he replied pointing his thumb back at Tara. "She doesn't have any better idea of what's going on here than I do, but she trusted you. If she trusts you then I don't see why I shouldn't." He left it at that and kept on digging, taking care not to splatter Willow with dirt without looking like he was taking care.  
  
"But I love her," Tara protested.  
  
"If there's one thing that I've learned in this lengthy existence of mine it's that love has nothing to do with trust," he remarked. This time he did stop digging. He looked up at Willow again. "For what it's worth, I trust you. If you tell me there's nothing perverse in what you're doing, then I'll believe you."  
  
"There's nothing bad, Spike," Willow said honestly, "I promise."  
  
"Well, then," he replied, tossing the shovel out of the grave, "I'm finished digging." He turned and began to pull himself out.  
  
Willow became flustered at Spike's apparent change of heart. "Why have you stopped? I thought you were okay with this."  
  
"Hey, Red," Spike said patiently, inwardly amused in the whine that issued with her question. "I stopped digging because I've hit coffin."  
  
"Oh," she replied simply. She got down on her knees and began pushing the dirt away from the coffin with her hands.  
  
Spike turned away. He didn't want to look. More than three months had passed since Buffy had been placed in that ground. Too long. He knew what time did to beauty. He could hear Willow open the lid. He didn't want to see.  
  
"Oh, my God," Willow breathed.  
  
On instinct, Spike turned to see what had caused her stunned reaction. What he saw gave him a chill that he had difficulty masking.  
  
Buffy was perfect. Untouched by time.  
  
"I don't know why," Tara began to say. "Something made me do it."  
  
"What? What did you do?" Spike asked.  
  
Without looking away from Buffy she replied, "I put a preservation spell on her. Nothing big. It probably would have worn off in a couple of months anyway." Willow looked up at her worriedly. No one could have foreseen the reason for Tara's spell. They couldn't help but wonder if other powers were at work. "Something just made me do it."  
  
Willow tried to put on her reassuring face. "It's good thing," she said. "It makes our job much easier." She glanced back down at Buffy's body. "Now all we have to do is replace some organs and bodily fluids."  
  
Spike grimaced at that. "Suddenly the romance has disappeared," he remarked dryly but he found that he didn't want to leave. He was transfixed to his spot, overseeing the restoration. He knew that he was no longer under anyone's 'influence' except the one that told him that his part wasn't over.  
  
Los Angeles, the next evening.  
  
"The last time I saw him he almost tortured me to death," Angel spoke to the room at large as all other eyes did what they could to avoid his direct attention.   
  
Giles and Fred had retreated to her room to decifer the last of the pool's strange instructions before Willow came back with Spike and Dawn that evening.  
  
Wesley, who sat in one of the hotel lobby chairs had his nose buried in one of his research books trying to find any reference to perflecting pools in this earth. Without looking up he managed to respond, "I remember."  
  
Angel leaned up against the wall but couldn't seem to be still. His feet shifted constantly underneath him as if they had a mind of their own. "This doesn't make sense," he said shaking his head. "How can Giles trust him?"  
  
Cordy looked over a variety of take-out menus that she had spread over the receptionist desk. "Maybe he's changed," she replied.  
  
Even though it was a rhetorical question he couldn't keep himself from rejecting her answer. "I don't believe it. I remember, no, I know him too well. He doesn't have it in him." He had been reeling for days since the moment Giles told him. When he could quiet the rage in his head he tried to use what reason he had left to understand what had lead them to this point. Too him, it was inconceivable.  
  
He had been away from Sunnydale too long.  
  
To Cordy, all Angel had been doing was ranting. She sighed a little louder than she meant to.  
  
Finally he heard a sign that someone was listening to him. It wasn't the one he really wanted but at least it was a response. All it needed was a little clarification. "What?"  
  
Cordy slammed her hands down on the desk and looked directly at him. "I'm sorry, Angel. I know you're upset that Fred's pool said Spike is the one who is destined to save Buffy, but geez, listening to you go on about this, I can't help it."  
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
Her eyebrows arched up as if to lift up her words. "Pot. Kettle. Black."  
  
Angel looked away and shook his head. "This has nothing to do with me," he said quietly.  
  
Gunn, who had kept a low profile within the confines of a sports magazine, chimed in. "I don't know, man. Evil vampire goes around killing lots of good people. Something happens to him and he ends up on the side of the good guys." He glanced over at Angel who had ventured a look in his direction. "Sounds like a story I've heard before."  
  
Angel pushed himself away from the wall and approached Gunn and Cordy. They didn't see this like he did. Surely he could make them understand. "There's a big difference. I have a soul. All he has is a computer chip in his head." He couldn't help but sound a little defensive.  
  
Wesley roused himself to join the discussion. "You're right. There is a big difference," he said.  
  
Angel relaxed a little. Wesley had been there. He knew. "Thank you, Wesley," he said.  
  
Wesley continued, placing his book down on a nearby table. He steepled his fingers together as he reasoned this out. "The presence of your soul forced morality on you. With Spike, the demon himself has made a conscious choice to be good. If your soul was stripped from you again you would revert to your former evil. Spike has no soul to lose."  
  
Angel was stunned. This wasn't something to be reasoned out until they felt pacified. Spike was evil. That was all Angel knew. Nothing could have happened to him to make him good. A cat without its claws still feels the hunt. "What about the chip?" he asked suddenly. "It could always be removed. What happens then? Do you really think he'll continue to make that choice to be good?" He knew what Spike would do. No part of him doubted.  
  
"None of us know the answer to that, Angel," Wesley answered patiently.  
  
"Yeah, just like we didn't know that you were gonna turn on us when you did," Gunn added.  
  
"Wait a minute--" Angel started.  
  
"I don't remember you losing your soul to do that," Cordy continued.  
  
Angel saw them all looking at him readying themselves for his next argument. Suddenly he realized that his hands were up as if defending himself. He dropped them to his sides. "Alright," he sighed more in frustration than in acquiescence. "The three of you have made your point."   
  
Cordy came from behind the desk and took him gently by the arms. "Angel, look. I know it looks like we're all picking sides but there are no sides to pick." Her voice was soft and consoling but it did little to bring him out of his funk. Little did he know that Willow made her promise to 'make him okay with this'. "Everyone here, with the exception of Gunn of course, remembers Spike being a big baddie. You've had your moments of darkness too, but you've gained our trust back. You've earned it. Knowing you as we have has just opened our minds a little."  
  
Wesley got to his feet slowly and came to Cordy's side. "Spike has done things as well that have earned their trust. He has fought alongside them for months and on more than one occasion he has offered up his own life to save Buffy and her sister."  
  
Wesley paused to wait for Angel to look him in the eye. When he finally did he added: "In the end, he mourned for her."  
  
Before Angel could reflect on their words or even come up with another argument Gunn spoke up. "I get it. I know what this is about. This doesn't have anything to do with Spike being a bad guy."  
  
"What are you saying, Gunn?" Wesley asked.  
  
Gunn continued his argument with a pride of having figured out this particular pathos. "It's because he was there. He was there with her, fighting this big evil god, protecting her sister, playing the part of the hero, and you weren't. You were somewhere else, being somebody else's hero."  
  
A sound from the entrance shattered the tension of the moment. "They're here," Wesley announced.  
  
Willow came in followed by a Dawn that looked like she would rather be having a root canal. The look on their faces told of a trip that was not easily made. "Spike will be here in a minute. He had to get, um..." Willow let her voice trail off. Everyone knew what she meant and no one wanted to acknowledge that they brought Buffy's body in the trunk of the car.  
  
Cordy was as effusive as usual. "Hey, where's everyone else? I was looking forward to a big reunion. We were going to send for take out."  
  
Without a word, Angel made his way for the exit. Suspecting trouble Wesley followed and brought Gunn with him. They planned to keep a safe and discreet distance.  
  
Willow looked after them distractedly and then turned back to answer. "I told Tara what was going on. She's with Xander and Anya, to explain it all to them. Giles didn't think it was a good idea to have everyone here, just in case something went wrong."  
  
"What could go wrong?" Dawn said bluntly. "Buffy's already dead."  
  
Cordy decided to gloss over the gloomy mood of her guests. She spread out her take-out menus in front of them. "On that note, what are you guys in the mood for?"  
  
Outside of the hotel.  
  
Angel approached Willow's car and saw immediately the man who had caused him so much grief. How could everyone be snowed by him so easily? This all had to be part of some elaborate plan that he had cooked up. Why was he the only one who could see it?   
  
He watched as Spike lifted something from the trunk. Whatever it was had been wrapped in a blanket that Angel recognized as being from Buffy's bed. He expected Spike to heave it up onto his shoulder like a heavy bag but he didn't. He cradled it in his arms carefully, tenderly, like a mother holding a baby.   
  
All of the fight left Angel in that moment as he realized that the precious cargo was Buffy.  
  
"Need a hand?" Angel heard himself ask.  
  
Spike looked up and managed to masterfully mask the surprise that he felt. "No, I've got everything under control," he said. He obviously lied since he couldn't figure out how to shut the trunk without putting Buffy down.   
  
Angel walked up and shut it for him. He didn't want to look at the other man. He had trouble even finding the right words to say. "Look, uh, under the circumstances--"  
  
"Don't worry. I'll be good," Spike answered. "The stakes are too high for me to be otherwise." Clutching Buffy closely to him, he approached the entrance of the hotel.  
  
"Spike," Angel said, suddenly causing the other man to stop and face him. Even before the words came out, he couldn't believe he was saying them. "Thank you." It was a true gratitude that he felt, for the actions that had brought them here and for what was to happen that night but those two words were the only gratitude he would give.  
  
Spike nodded solemnly. "Things have changed," he said and then he entered the hotel.  
  
Too quiet to be heard, Angel answered. "So I've heard."  
  
As he approached the hotel entrance on Spike's trail he paused at his car. He spoke to the air around him. "Maybe I've learned to be a little open-minded too."   
  
Wesley and Gunn heard him clearly.  
  
Minutes later with nearly everyone assembled in the lobby Giles came down the stairs. "Oh, good. Everything's prepared upstairs. We could start whenever you and Dawn are ready." He paused seeing Cordy on the phone with a menu in her hand. "That is, unless you wish to wait for the food."  
  
Dawn spoke up, still brooding. "I'm not hungry."  
  
"I think she speaks for all of us," Spike agreed.  
  
"Let's do this, Giles," Angel said.  
  
Wesley stepped forward with a hopeful tone in his voice. "Do you need us to come?"  
  
Giles shook his head. "It's not necessary."  
  
Gunn tugged at the back of Wesley's shirt. "Fred's bathroom's going to be crowded enough."  
  
Fred was waiting for them at her door. She welcomed them all in with a nervous smile. "Hello. I guess we're ready. Which one of you is the key?"  
  
"I am," Dawn said somberly. When Willow had told her of this crazy idea of bringing her sister back she was furious. She had been through this before with the death of her mother. She had gotten her hopes up only to have them destroyed by reality. Dead is dead. There is no coming back. Willow can have all the delusions about resurrection she wants without her. She didn't want to be there. This wouldn't work.  
  
Willow tried to comfort her. "Don't worry. This time, it's a good thing."  
  
Fred brightened. "It's a really good thing." She led the reluctant girl to the perflecting pool.  
  
"What do I have to do?" Dawn asked cautiously.  
  
"Just touch the water," Fred instructed. "If you're the key it's been telling us about, the pool will become the doorway to the place it shows."  
  
Dawn looked down into the pool. She saw a crowd of people in a dark room. A woman within the group looked like her sister. She couldn't believe she was looking in someone's bathtub. Her doubt began to falter a little. "Sounds a lot easier than a bloodletting," she remarked.  
  
Fred nodded encouragingly. "Oh, it is."   
  
Before she realized that she was doing it, Dawn reached out and touched the surface of the bath water. A shock of electric blue light rippled out from her point of contact and the image within the pool became brighter and clearer as if it were suddenly on the other side of a window.   
  
Fred caught Dawn as she stumbled backwards in surprise. "Wow!" Fred exclaimed. "You've got a lot of power."  
  
"So I've been told," Dawn replied. This time the angry edge was missing from her voice. She began to wonder if this would work after all. "This is the first time I've ever been able to do something with it. This leads to where my sister is?"  
  
"Uh-huh," Fred answered, "but you can't go. That's someone else's job."  
  
"Mine," Spike announced. He approached the pool and looked down at the image of Buffy below. "Do I just jump in?"  
  
"Yeah," Fred told him, "but you have to be very careful. What you see here isn't going to be what you'll see on the other side."  
  
He looked at her with concern. "What am I going to see?"  
  
Fred glanced back at him nervously. "I have no idea," she said.  
  
Willow came forward. "I'll try to keep in contact with you. To give you guidance if you need it."  
  
Spike looked down with uncertainty. "I probably will." He stood by the side of the tub and readied himself to jump in.  
  
"Spike!" Dawn called out suddenly. "Be careful."  
  
He turned back to her reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll come back with your sister."   
  
He jumped into the pool and Dawn screamed.  
  
To be continued...  
  
Next: Find out what made Dawn scream and if Angel has really put his differences enough to help his former enemy. Part Four should be the conclusion.   
  
  
  
  



	4. Locked Away, Chapter 4

I'm really, REALLY sorry that this has taken me so long. Life has sort of gotten in the   
way. When I first began to write it, I didn't know what was going to happen. I hope you   
like my decisions. It ended up much longer than I had intended but yet in some places it   
doesn't seem long enough.   
  
Disclaimer is still the same as in Chapters 1 and 2.  
  
The demon unfurled his massive batlike wings and descended upon the crowd of   
oblivious people below him.  
  
That was the vision that had dissolved the group in Fred's bathroom into chaos. Dawn   
had begun to scream hysterically at the monster that her friend had transformed into. She   
had no way of knowing if his mind had changed as well. She voiced these concerns   
within her outbursts but no one could actually make out her words. Giles took hold of   
her arms and pulled her away from the pool.  
  
Willow stared silently into the water. Outwardly she appeared calm but inside her mind   
she desperately tried to establish contact with Spike. No one had any idea what kind of   
affect this change would have on him. He could have become as much of a monster on   
the inside as he appeared on the outside.  
  
Fred looked up at Angel. "I was afraid something like this would happen," she said to   
him in a surprisingly calm voice.   
  
Angel looked into the water and watched as the demon stretched out his arms in front of   
him and let out what looked like a silent scream. He then curled into a ball and collapsed   
in a heap of scaled flesh. Then he didn't move at all.  
  
Fred clasped Angel's hand. She knew the thoughts that went through his mind. He   
understood the feeling better than anyone else there. He had once become a monster so   
horrible the shame alone nearly consumed him. He recognized the movements of the   
demon. Spike was losing himself to the monster. If he didn't gain control he would   
destroy their only chance to get Buffy back.  
  
Angel thought briefly that he could use his voice of experience to reach Spike but the   
thought was nearly beaten to oblivion by his gut reaction to not help. Spike was the last   
person in the universe he'd want to help.  
  
He looked to Willow who only shook her head. "I keep trying to reach him but all he   
keeps saying to me is 'go away'."   
  
  
Spike yawned and laid down in the soft grass. The sun warmed his back and the wind   
caressed him. He had never known such contentment. The best thing to top off this   
perfection would be a nap.  
  
An annoying little voice nagged him in his mind. It kept demanding that he talk to it but   
answering would require more effort than he was willing to exert. He thought "go away"   
very loudly and it became quiet.  
  
"I was wondering when you were going to show up," a woman's voice spoke from above   
him. It sounded vaguely familiar but his curiosity was not piqued enough.  
  
If Spike could have spoken he would have told her the same thing that he told the voice   
in his head. He stayed in his sleeping position, resisting any urge to awaken. He didn't   
even use the necessary energy to look up at her and acknowledge her presence. He felt   
too good. He didn't want to do anything to mess that up. It was his reality and he wanted   
it to last forever.  
  
A new voice entered his head. Why wouldn't they leave him alone? Couldn't they see   
that he was trying to sleep? This voice sounded masculine, hesitant and full of   
reluctance. It wanted to be talking to him as much as Spike wanted to be listening, but   
yet it made no demands. "Just listen to me," it said. "I know what you're going   
through." It spoke of losing oneself, of forgetting one's identity to a bestial nature. It   
told him how he had to remember who he was and why he was there.  
  
That was simple. He was Sleepy. He was here to take a nap. Why else would he be   
here?  
  
"Buffy," the voice said.  
  
Buffy. The sound of it rolled around in his sleepy mind. He had heard that before. Was   
it important?  
  
Suddenly everything flooded back into his mind. Buffy. He had to find her and bring her   
back.  
  
Spike opened his eyes and a sound issued from him that resembled a yelp.  
  
He was a dog. A small, yellow, fuzzy-looking dog. No wonder the voice spoke about a   
bestial nature....  
  
The voice!! Bloody damnation!! That was Angel. William the Bloody had become a   
cute little lapdog. It's amazing Angel had been capable of holding in the laughter. His   
only happy thought was that at least Xander wasn't there.  
  
"I'm really sorry about this," the woman's voice spoke again from above. "There are   
rules about this place and this was the best form they could provide."  
  
Spike looked up into the warm eyes of Joyce Summers. Buffy's mother.  
  
"It was this or a squirrel," she said, kneeling on the grass beside him. "I hope you agree   
this is the best choice."  
  
Spike opened his mouth to talk but found that he couldn't. Okay, so he had to be a dog.   
Couldn't he have been a talking dog?  
  
Suddenly Angel's voice came back into his head. He was trying to sound reassuring but   
he wasn't pulling it off well. Spike thought that it seemed obvious that someone had put   
him up to it. They must have been pretty frantic up there to think that it was a good idea   
to have Angel try to talk him out of his disorientation.  
  
Spike thought hard and clearly. "I'm fine. I'm alright now."  
  
Angel's voice thankfully went away.  
  
"Being a dog makes it pretty difficult for us to have a conversation," Joyce said   
apologetically.  
  
Spike was grateful that she didn't reach out to pet him. Part of him wanted her to. A   
really, really small part which he hoped was just a side effect of his borrowed form.  
  
"I'll do all the talking, okay?" Joyce asked.  
  
Spike nodded and she smiled.  
  
"Buffy's here. That's why you're here. If you haven't figured it out already, I'm the one   
who called for you," she began.  
  
Spike had just pieced that together but was grateful for her clarification.  
  
"When she came here, I thought it was the right thing, that she deserved her time to rest,   
her reward for fighting the good fight but....she doesn't act like someone who's life is   
over." Joyce turned and looked over her shoulder. Spike followed her gaze to a lone   
woman sitting on a park bench. Even though her back was to him, the curve of her waist   
and the slope of her delicate jawline were unmistakable.  
  
Buffy. She focused her attention on some children playing on a jungle gym several feet   
away from her. They laughed happily and one of them waved at her.  
  
"Watch me!" he called to her. "Look at what I can do."  
  
Spike stood helpless as a small whine issued from him. The children. They were   
Buffy's.  
  
  
Back above the waters of the perflecting pool, the occupants of Fred's bathroom seemed   
to find their respective versions of calm.  
  
Dawn had reduced her hysterical utterances into an extremely intense look of concern.  
  
Angel looked back at her. "He says he's fine. I guess we just need to let him do what   
he's supposed to do."  
  
Dawn grimaced. "But how can he? I mean, look at him! Buffy's not about to follow   
that anywhere."  
  
Giles had remained behind the young girl for reassurance. He relaxed into his more   
'professor' like role and he reached up to adjust his glasses to establish this. "Yes, this   
does seem to prevent a problem."  
  
"Not necessarily," Fred interjected. "Remember that what she sees is different from what   
we see. He probably doesn't look like that to her."  
  
"But what does he look like?" Willow asked. "Something happened to him. When he   
told me to 'go away' he didn't sound like Spike. I mean not in the way that I've heard   
Spike say 'go away'. He was different."  
  
Angel sighed. "Let's just hope that whatever he is, it's something Buffy will   
understand."  
  
  
"Hi Mommy," Buffy smiled up at Joyce. "Cute puppy."  
  
Spike barked at the maligning comment.  
  
Her mother sat down next to her on the bench. She took her hand into the shelter of her   
own. "Buffy, it's time," she told her.  
  
Buffy tensed and turned away, diverting her attention back to the children on the   
playground. "We've been through this, Mom. I'm not going anywhere."  
  
Joyce sighed heavily and clutched Buffy's hand in her lap. "Honey, look at yourself.   
This is heaven. You're supposed to be happy."  
  
Buffy looked back at her and forced an unconvincing smile. "I am happy, Mom. I'm   
with you."  
  
"This is not normal. Everyday you look back at what could have been. All of the things   
that your life could have had if you hadn't come here." Her free hand pointed in the   
direction of the children. "You can't spend eternity like this."  
  
Buffy turned away again from her mother's intense scrutiny. She did not believe the   
words she spoke. "I'm not going to. This is just temporary. I'll get used to it. I'll   
adapt."  
  
"You can go back, Buffy," Joyce told her.   
  
"Like reincarnation? I don't think that's going to solve anything," she replied   
dismissively.  
  
"No. Reincarnation is for other people. Normal people. Not you." Joyce took Buffy's   
chin and forced her daughter to face her. Avoidance had become an ill-mannered game   
with her and she had finally had enough. She did hold her attention out of anger but of a   
deep love. "Buffy, since I got here I have seen you for the first time as something beyond   
my daughter. Something beyond even the Slayer. You are a force with a purpose and a   
destiny that is too big and powerful to be denied. Even you see it. That's why you can't   
find rest, even in heaven."  
  
Unable to run away, Buffy's eyes welled with tears. She spoke aloud the frustration that   
had tainted her paradise. "But it's not fair. Don't I deserve this? Haven't I done   
enough?"  
  
"Oh Sweetheart," she said consolingly pulling her daughter into her arms. "You've done   
plenty and no one's denying that you deserve this. It's just that you're not ready. There   
is still so much left that you can offer, so many more that you can save. Life still has   
much to offer you."  
  
For a long moment they sat together in each other's embrace. Finally, Buffy lifted her   
head and began to wipe her tears away. "If I go, will I find what I'm looking for?"  
  
"What are you looking for?" Joyce asked.  
  
"Peace," she replied quietly as tears threatened her again.  
  
"Maybe. I don't know. You're not going to know unless you take the chance," she told   
her warmly. "One thing's for sure. You're not going to find it here."  
  
Silence fell upon them once again as Buffy turned to watch her 'children' again. She   
thought of the glory that she existed in and knew that no matter how much she dreamed   
of what could be, none of it was real. Illusion can only feed the soul so much before it   
begins to eat away at itself. Hers had been craving something since she had died,   
something intangible that her mother had now put within her grasp. Slowly, the children   
vanished from her sight. She didn't face Joyce as she asked, "So what do I do?"  
  
Joyce smiled. "Just follow the dog. He'll lead you back."  
  
Spike stood up at finally being acknowledged. He almost sat back down when he felt his   
tail begin to wag and didn't know how to stop it. He had watched the exchange between   
the two in respectful, although involuntary, silence. He never knew how Buffy had   
suffered from all the things that had been denied her for the sake of her heritage. As a   
demon he had never really missed them from his life, but she did. She felt the loss   
everyday of her life as she watched her friends live their lives. They made sacrifices but   
they always had the choice to leave. She couldn't. As long as she lived, she would   
always be the Slayer. The only way she could leave that is through death. Could she find   
a way to be the Slayer and be Buffy too? This death had brought her nothing but the   
knowledge that she had failed. She had been a great Slayer but a terrible Buffy. She   
comforted herself with illusions in the afterlife, would she be able to find them in her real   
life? Now she had the chance to find out.   
  
Would he, demon, dog, lover or friend be able to help her?  
  
"Why a dog?" Buffy's blunt question ripped Spike from his thoughts. She frowned down   
at him. He barked at her impudent dismissal of him and tried to stand with as much   
dignity as his little furry body could muster.   
  
Joyce read his body language and stifled a chuckle. "It's difficult to explain and besides I   
don't want him to be angry with me."  
  
"Why would you worry about a dog being angry with you?" Buffy asked still frowning at   
Spike.  
  
"I've already said too much," Joyce replied. She stood and began to lead them both on   
their journey.   
  
She stopped and turned to see that Buffy had not yet moved. Her daughter's eyes   
threatened to brim over with tears again. "Honey, what's wrong?"  
  
The tears could not be held back. Buffy fell to the grass as sobs shook her hard. "I don't   
want to leave you, Mommy," she cried, "It feels like I'm losing you all over again."  
  
She never had been hesitant to leave Heaven. Her mother had been the one reason she   
stayed. The reason she came.   
  
Joyce pulled her into her embrace again, cradling her as she had done when she was a   
child. Age diminished from them and they were once again as mother and child and   
Buffy clung to her, desperate not to leave, desperate for comfort. Joyce rocked her softly.   
"Listen to me," she said softly, "I love you very much and saying good-bye is a painful   
thing to have to do....but this is where I belong. My life is over and I'm okay with it.   
You need to be too."  
  
"But what if I still need you?" Buffy sobbed.  
  
This time when Joyce spoke her voice was louder. "I have taught you everything that I   
could have. I don't have any more lessons or bit of mother's wisdom left to offer you.   
All I have left is my love and that is something I guarantee will be with you no matter   
where I am." With one more reassuring hug she helped Buffy get to her feet again. She   
kissed her daughter on the forehead and remained close, their heads touching. "Know   
that I am here and I am fine and when it is your time, really your time, I'll still be here for   
you."   
  
Buffy finally smiled. She had found strength in this last moment with her mother. It was   
the good-bye she never got in life. She threw her arms around her mother's neck. "I love   
you, Mommy."  
  
Joyce breathed deeply returning the embrace. "I love you too, Sweetie," she said. As   
they parted she added, "Get back to you life."  
  
Without warning Spike flung himself into Joyce's arms. For a moment he forgot he was   
a dog, or for that moment he embraced the shamelessness of his form. He didn't know.   
He didn't care. Joyce had always shown him kindness and respect and he was truly   
going to miss her.   
  
Joyce laughed as she scooped the little dog up in her arms. "Hey, that goes for you too."   
Then she looked at him seriously. "You're here for a very special reason. I knew that I   
could trust my daughter to you, not just here but back there as well. I'm counting on you   
to watch out for her."   
  
She laid him gently on the ground. Spike looked up at her and barked. His best effort at   
telling her that he promised. With every fiber of his being he promised. So much to   
convey in just one little bark.   
  
Joyce smiled. "Consider that a task appointed to you from the Heavens. Maybe next   
time you won't have to come here as a dog."  
  
Buffy shook her head in confusion. "I'm not going to ask."  
  
"You'll know soon enough," she replied. With a slight gesture, she urged her daughter to   
go. "Take care."  
  
Buffy raised her hand in a feeble farewell. She still felt reluctant to leave but she saw   
that the dog began to get further away from her. She had no choice but to follow. Away   
from Heaven. Away from Mom.   
  
Back to Life.  
  
  
Willow's eyes suddenly grew wide. "He's got her. He's ready."  
  
Everyone came to life at her words. At Fred's instructions, Angel and Giles gently   
unwrapped Buffy's body. Angel paused as he saw her revealed for the first time.   
Beautiful. Perfect.  
  
Fred brought him out of his reverie. "Place her body in the water. As he surfaces, she'll   
know where to go," she said.  
  
The sky around Buffy grew dark. As she followed the dog, the park faded away like a   
radio signal dissipates as it's moved away from its frequency. She turned and strained to   
see her mother one last time but the park had disappeared into a black fog. She choked   
back tears that fought furiously to reach the surface and endeavored to stay with the dog.   
Her guide back to the world of the living.  
  
But the change of scenery would not leave him untouched. In a way unknown to Buffy   
his form was tightly wound to the environments through which they moved. The dog   
faltered in his steps and as she reached him, he was convulsing. Huge waves rippled   
through his little body and he yelped in pain, helpless to stop them.   
  
Buffy watched in horror as the dog began to change. Its body elongated, stretching in   
grotesque directions. Its fur warped and darkened until it seemed to melt over the   
distorted form before her, revealing a scaled skin to clothe the demon it had become.  
  
A gigantic monster with batlike wings crouched on the dark ground before her. Its   
movements were hesitant and confused. Buffy's first reaction was to turn and run back   
the way she had come but she knew she couldn't.   
  
Her mother trusted this creature. She had called him to take her daughter back.   
  
She wouldn't run away.  
  
"What's happening to me?" the demon hissed. It sounded terrified and confused. It   
stared at its hands, horrified by its own transformation.  
  
"You changed," Buffy answered quietly.  
  
It turned its huge demonic head to face her. "...Buffy..." The whisper escaped its lips as   
it looked at her in wonder. Slowly it reached for her, lost in a moment of recognition.  
  
Buffy flinched at its outstretched hand. She couldn't help the fear that appeared in her   
eyes.   
  
It realized what it had done, what it had become. It turned away from her and howled in   
misery and anger. "NOOO!!! It wasn't supposed to be this way!" It crumpled to the   
ground in agony, hiding its face in its hands. "You weren't supposed to see..."  
  
Buffy slowly moved towards the mourning creature. "What wasn't I supposed to see?"   
she asked.  
  
Sensing her closeness it turned away from her more. It lifted its head but only stared out   
into the enveloping darkness. "Me," it answered. "I was supposed to come and lead you   
back to the living. I was the only one who could do it. I was practically jumping for joy   
when they told me. Not Willow. Not even Angel. Me. I thought I could be your hero. I   
thought I could show you."  
  
"Show me what?" she asked.  
  
At this it turned to her. Tinged with sorrow and shame the distorted features revealed to   
her something recognizable. "That you could count on me." Its eyes locked with hers.   
She knew. Any other feeling that would have presented itself at this discovery was   
pushed out of the way. She should have already known. She should have believed him   
when he first told her. He loved her. Really loved her.  
  
"But now you see me for what I am," he said. "I could always play at being the hero but   
you would always know the truth."  
  
Suddenly a light from ahead of them fell across Buffy's face.  
  
"What's that?" she asked in a startled whisper.  
  
He sighed and turned away from the light. "It's the way back. You don't need me   
anymore. Go ahead. Everyone's waiting for you."  
  
The light rippled like the surface of water. "Not everyone," she said. "You're not there."  
  
Spike glanced up at her in surprise as she grabbed his scaled hand and began to pull him   
after her. Her determined stride towards the light caught him off guard and he struggled   
to get to his feet.  
  
"What are you doing?!" he demanded loudly. "I was trying to be noble there!"  
  
"Well you don't get to be," she said in a strong voice. "Not now. You were wrong,   
Spike. I need you. You are the only one who knows what I left here. You're the only   
one who knows why." She stopped and looked at his astonished demon face. "Maybe   
with you around, I won't forget."   
  
  
Buffy gasped for her first breaths of new life. Her eyes opened to find herself inside a   
bathroom grasping desperately to the sides of a bathtub full of water. As Angel pulled   
her out she could feel something move in the water beneath her.  
  
She looked up at him with surprise. "Angel? What are you doing here?" she asked.   
  
Relief filled his face. He began to smile and cry all at the same time. "I might ask you   
the same thing." He could tell her that she was in his hotel in Los Angeles, that his friend   
had built a perflecting pool to bring her back, but so many other things flooded his mind   
that took precedence, like how he had mourned for her, how he had wanted to be the one   
to save her, how happy he was that she was back. Too much for words. His face would   
have to say it all for now.  
  
Before anyone said anything else, Dawn had thrown herself at her sister. She sobbed her   
profound feelings into Buffy's wet embrace. The others watched as they held each other.   
Before their eyes Buffy had become the mother to the girl who clung to her.   
  
Only one in that tiny room knew where she received that strength and power. He had   
seen it with his own eyes. Spike sat on the edge of the tub, soaked through to the skin.   
He had been forgotten by all but Fred who had remained to help pull him out of the   
water. He watched the reunion with concealed satisfaction.  
  
The intensity of the moment broke with the swirling sound of water running down the   
drain of the tub.  
  
Willow was the first to react. "Fred? What are you doing? The pool!"   
  
Fred looked up at her with a frown and said matter-of-factly, "The pool won't work   
anymore. The spirit is gone."  
  
Buffy's eyes locked with Spike's. They both watched as the last of the water   
disappeared and said a silent farewell to the spirit that had powered it.   
  
The end.  
  
  
  
  
  
Note: That was my first fanfiction and my first BTVS fanfiction. If you liked it, I'm   
working on another. Please be on the lookout for it. It will be called "Blessed". It will   
take place after "Flooded" but before "Once More With Feeling". 


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